


Enough

by zacekova



Series: On Love [3]
Category: Captain Harlock
Genre: Light Angst, M/M, Possibly Unrequited Love, Post-Canon, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-09
Updated: 2018-04-09
Packaged: 2019-04-20 12:07:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14260635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zacekova/pseuds/zacekova
Summary: A figure clothed in red came up beside him, tossing a lock of pale gold over her shoulder. “Go talk to him already. You’ve been standing there staring and it’s starting to get weird.”





	Enough

**Author's Note:**

  * For [iJoeyMonster](https://archiveofourown.org/users/iJoeyMonster/gifts).



> I make no promises about this becoming a multi-chapter thing like you’re hoping for. But I do plan to do at least one more installment in this ridiculously tiny series. I’ll get these two together eventually, I swear.

The garden was flourishing. Soft pinpricks of light dotted the room, littering the floor and climbing up the walls like tiny, wingless fireflies. Green, blue, purple; soft hues that lit up the darkness in gentle caresses and whispered _hush, be still_. The bioluminescent plants had been gathered from every conceivable corner of the galaxy, spirited away as seeds, as sprouts, as towering monstrosities, and encouraged to thrive in the ship’s greenhouse, in the night nursery, in the sprawling garden that most only saw under the daytime’s floodlights. Few had ever seen the flowers and trees and creeping vines slit their luminous eyes open, peeking out into the world with silent curiosity and the cool, varicolored glow of a nebula.

It didn’t help that this part of the ship was practically secret, hidden in a quiet corner and guarded by a passionate, vengeful creature, the reach of his ire vast and his blaze mighty. He stalked the garden’s paths in the wake of minor destructions to his wards like a caged beast, vibrating with barely contained fury. And then he would stop, breathe deeply, exhale. The flora around him would pulse with his blood, soothing the rhythm, and quiet him, coaxing him closer to scent, to admire, to touch them with tender fingers and affectionate eyes.

Harlock watched him pace with a smile, watched him calm and return to his tasks with a fond shake of his head. Logan overflowed with righteous anger whenever someone trampled or plucked or neglected his plants. It was why Harlock had given him this empty hall in the bowels of the Arcadia, far away from the usual paths of his crew.

Their feelings for him had ridden a storm, carried high and low on chaotic winds of circumstance - first, jovial and pockmarked with playful ribbing; second, hostile and hurt and hardened by betrayal; third, wary with caution and regerminating trust; fourth, affectionate and fond and welcoming, though long coming and hard-won. Logan had earned his place among them and not with ease.

There was merit in the task, admiration to be had for the few who had watched him fight for it, fight through it, and hoped he would succeed. Miime. _Arcadia_. Kei.

Harlock.

He had doubted at times, questioned his own choices, his own wisdom, his own feelings; he had doubted Logan. But he had hoped. He had always hoped. And in the weeks past, the months past, it had only grown, blossomed, thrived among these halls and paths and walkways of green. As he watched Logan smile, watched Logan heal, watched Logan settle in and be welcomed, his heart ached and sang and beat with a vigor Harlock had thought lost to him. The dark and empty shell he had inhabited for a hundred years was beginning to throb again with blood and soul and _feeling_.

He felt _alive_.

He was alive because of _Logan_.

A figure clothed in red came up beside him, tossing a lock of pale, golden hair over her shoulder. “Go talk to him already,” she said. “You’ve been standing there staring and it’s starting to get weird.”

Harlock glanced sideways at her and quirked a brow.

Kei’s nose wrinkled and she turned her eyes on the young man who was nearly lost inside an enthusiastic shrubbery. “The whole ship can see how you feel. You’re subtle, but we know you. You should tell him.”

Harlock let his gaze linger on earth covered hands, on shimmering eyes and lips that murmured gentle praises, and shook his head. “I can’t.”

“Why?” she asked, anger and concern in equal portions coloring her voice.

Harlock smiled, soft and small and sad. “Because I have asked enough of him. I cannot ask for this, too.”

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on [tumblr](https://zacekova.tumblr.com/).


End file.
